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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24648685">Hooper and Holmes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsangel_x/pseuds/castielsangel_x'>castielsangel_x</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Babysitting, Body Image, Children, Christmas Fluff, Coitus Interruptus, Drabble Collection, F/M, Family Fluff, First Time, Guilt, Kidnapping, Kissing in the Rain, Mycroft To The Rescue, Nude Photos, Oral Sex, Pregnancy, Presents, Self Confidence Issues, Surprise Kissing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:00:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,583</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24648685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsangel_x/pseuds/castielsangel_x</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles between Mycroft Holmes and Molly Hooper, ranging from friendship to romance. Tags to be updated as chapters are uploaded. Title to be changed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Minor or Background Relationship(s), Mycroft Holmes/Molly Hooper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first venture into Mycroft x Molly territory so please be gentle. There will be fluff, there will be smut. Will try to update frequently.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt: kissing in the rain</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>#1. </p><p> </p><p>Molly yawned as she pulled off her lab coat, the chill of the morgue seeping through her striped, multicoloured jumper as she gathered up her things in preparation for leaving for the night. She took the last drink of her lukewarm tea, her nose scrunching at the taste before she pulled on her jacket. She picked up her bag and headed slowly for the exit, her limbs tired and sore. She bid goodnight to a few colleagues on her way out, groaning audibly when she stepped outside and saw the torrential rain falling. She rifled through her bag, taking out her crappy umbrella which she was sure was broken. She tried to put it up but she had no luck, storming out into the rain, throwing it into the nearest bin. She walked quickly, her trainers soaking through quickly to her socks. There was no sign of any cabs on the main road that weren’t already in use, after all it was a Saturday night. She pulled up the hood of her coat best she could but it kept falling back down. The chill that went through her was harsh the harder the rain fell. She wrapped her arms around herself, only for the rain to suddenly stop over her head, making her turn quickly only to see Mycroft Holmes standing behind her, umbrella up over their heads, the black sedan sitting at the kerbside, a small smile on his face. </p><p> </p><p>“Mycroft … hi.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll catch a chill, Dr Hooper,” he said. “This weather is definitely not for walking.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was going for a cab, but there was none,” she said.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, allow me to take you home?” he offered. Molly tilted her head slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“Walk with me a little first?” she asked, slipping her hand around his bicep, keeping herself close to him to stay under the umbrella. Mycroft looked down at her, at her hand on his arm before he met her eyes. He watched the water droplets from her hair drip down her face, catching on her lip. It all seemed like slow motion, his eyes taking in her entire face. They began to walk slowly along the street together, the hems of Mycroft’s trousers becoming wet from the puddles on the pavement. The silence between them was comfortable, the sedan following them slowly along the street. “How was your day, love?”</p><p> </p><p>“My day was long and tedious, my dear. The thought of seeing you got me through my meetings,” he said and Molly looked up at him in wonder before smiling. Mycroft was definitely not one to openly admit he missed her often, but when he did, it gave her the wildest butterflies. She pressed her cheek against his arm, snuggling close. “And yours?”</p><p> </p><p>“The usual, dead people, Sherlock … nothing new,” she said and Mycroft fought not to roll his eyes. Typical Sherlock, annoying Molly again. She shivered and Mycroft stopped them walking. </p><p> </p><p>“Come, my dear. The car is warm. I cannot have you getting sick,” he said and Molly nodded quickly. The car pulled up alongside them and Mycroft let down the umbrella, both of them getting soaked from the rain, Mycroft opening the door. But before Mycroft could get into the car, Molly had grabbed his tie and pulled him down for a kiss. Mycroft melted into her touch, feeling the umbrella get taken from him (thank you Anthea, he thought to himself) so he could cup her cheeks with his large hands. She kissed him passionately, pressing her body against his, his now pressed up against the side of the car next to the now-open door. The kiss was everything she wanted it to be, his mouth opening against hers, tasting both Mycroft and the rain water that dripped down both their faces. Mycroft would have usually been upset at getting his suit wet but he was far too preoccupied with her mouth, until she began to pull away, his head moving with hers until they parted, breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together. Molly looked up at him, lust dancing in her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve always wanted to kiss someone in the rain,” she said softly, watching Mycroft swallow hard as he tried to get his breath back. “Take me home with you, Mr Holmes. You’re going to need to warm me up.” Mycroft nodded and chanced another quick kiss before he pushed himself up and off the car, standing back to allow Molly to enter first, knowing they’d both soak the leather seats. He caught Anthea’s amused face buried in her Blackberry as he got in and closed the door behind him. She quickly looked up at her boss, who fixed her with a stare that definitely said ‘<em> not one word from you </em>.’ He ran his hand through his wet hair, slicking it back before calling for his driver to take them home. </p><p> </p><p>-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --</p><p> </p><p>Molly sighed contentedly as she sat in front of Mycroft’s fireplace in the lounge, sipping some wine, wearing nothing but Mycroft’s silk robe which was too big for her but she loved it. They’d stripped out of their wet clothes once they had arrived home, their lips finding each others again, making their way to Mycroft’s room, taking a steamy - very steamy - shower together to warm themselves up. Classical music filtered through the room and Molly let her eyes fall closed as she listened to it, sighing happily. She felt another presence in the room and she leaned back a little more when Mycroft sat down behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist, kissing her bare shoulder and up to her neck where the robe had slipped down.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you wish sometimes you could just run away?” Molly asked softly, sighing gently at the touch of Mycroft’s lips to her warm skin.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, sometimes. But the empire would fall apart if I left idiots to run it,” he whispered as he pressed another kiss to Molly’s neck. She giggled.</p><p> </p><p>“Indeed it would, Mycroft Holmes,” she said, staring into the dancing flames as she sat in his embrace.</p><p> </p><p>“Sherlock would hunt you down, also. He trusts no one but you at Bart’s, you know?” he said and Molly sighed.</p><p> </p><p>“I know … all too well. He likes to remind me …” she said, taking another sip of wine. There was a sudden silence between them, which sometimes happened after Sherlock’s name was mentioned, like something needed to be said but nothing ever was. She turned her head to look at him, watching him stare into space for a moment. She sighed gently, pretty sure she knew what was wrong. “I don’t have feelings for him, you know.” Mycroft turned his head to look at her, his nose almost touching hers. “I realise I never really did, it was more … fascination, I think. Entranced by his skills, which were something I’d never seen before until he, and you, came along.” Molly turned in his embrace, kneeling up between his legs as she pressed his back against the couch from where they were sitting on the floor. She put down her wine and she cupped his face gently, her thumbs running along his cheekbones. “You’re the Holmes I love, I promise.” She kissed him ever so gently. “I love you very, very much.” She squealed suddenly as Mycroft grabbed her around the waist and she was suddenly put down on her back in front of the fire, Mycroft leaning over her to capture her lips in his. She groaned against his mouth, her arms going round his neck. Her bare legs came up round his hips, holding him closer as he kissed her deeply. Never, <em> never, </em> in a million years did she ever see herself in love with Mycroft Holmes, but it happened and she couldn’t believe her luck. He pulled back from the kiss for a moment to look down at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, my dear, if we are quite finished discussing my baby brother, I’d like to take you upstairs and do unspeakable things to you,” he said, raising one perfect eyebrow, making Molly giggle, stealing his lips for another quick kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“Lead the way, lover.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt: Molly and Mycroft looking after Rosie together and Mycroft asks Molly to dinner. &lt;3</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mycroft stepped out of the car onto an unusually-busy-for-a-Sunday Baker Street, lifting his eyes to the familiar front door, next to the also unusually busy cafe. He moved forward to the familiar door, sighing gently as he stopped on the steps to straighten the door knocker for the umpeenth time. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him and slowly made his way upstairs to his brother’s flat. For the street being unusually busy, Sherlock’s residence was unusually quiet, which made Mycroft frown. He opened the door that led to the lounge, no sign of Sherlock or Dr Watson anywhere. In their place, sitting in John’s chair, was Molly Hooper, cuddling John’s infant daughter, Rosie, to her chest as she fed her her bottle. She didn’t seem to hear Mycroft enter the room, too engrossed with the baby cradled in her arms. He watched the young pathologist for a moment while she was distracted. He had spent more time in her company lately and she had become the star of the old black and white romance movie that played over and over in his head. Not that she knew that, of course. He watched her as she put down the bottle and manoeuvered little Rosie up onto her towel covered shoulder and began to rub her back. Mycroft cleared his throat gently and Molly turned to see him standing in the doorway, albeit a little awkwardly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mycroft,” she said, her face breaking out into a smile so lovely that the Iceman’s cold heart melted there and then.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dr Hooper …” he began and she rolled her eyes before standing, Rosie still firmly held against her shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How many times have I told you to call me Molly?” she asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thirty-seven …” he said, deadpan, and Molly was silent for a moment before she chuckled. Only Mycroft would know exactly how many times she had said that. “I did not mean to intrude on your afternoon, Molly …” He saw one eyebrow rise at the use of her first name from his lips but she said nothing. “I was looking for Sherlock … do you happen to know where he has gone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean you don’t keep tabs on him twenty-four-seven,” she said, swaying gently on the spot as she began to pat Rosie’s back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not today …” he said with a small smile of his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You just missed him. Mrs Hudson had a fall, possible broken hip . John took her to the hospital and insisted Sherlock went with him. Said he was busy but John threatened to put </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> in hospital if he didn’t admit he was at least a little worried about Mrs Hudson … so he went, with his tail between his legs,” she said. “John can be rather terrifying when he wants to be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do not doubt it …” he said, just as Rosie began to whimper. Molly patted her back a little harder until she burped. Molly took her from her shoulder, pulling off the towel and wiping the milk from the little one’s lips. She looked over at Mycroft.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could you hold her for a second?” she asked and Mycroft’s stomach churned uncomfortably.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could you hold her for a sec? I really need to use the loo,” she said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dr Hooper, I’m not sure I  … well, I’m not …” he began, unable to put together a complete sentence. The British Government himself was having trouble stringing words together to make something coherent and Molly wishes she had her phone out to record such a unique moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Aaaand</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was back to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dr Hooper,</span>
  </em>
  <span> not Molly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mycroft, have you never held a baby before?” she asked in disbelief. Mycroft swallowed hard and he shook his head. “Oh. Would you, just while I go to the loo?” Mycroft took a deep breath and he nodded, putting down his umbrella against the back of John’s chair. “Oh, maybe you should take off your suit jacket, just in case she spits up.” The look of horror on Mycroft’s face at the idea of sweet, little Rosie spitting up on his bespoke suit was rather comical, but Molly bit her lip to stop from laughing. He sighed again and he slid his suit jacket down his arms, throwing it over the arm of Sherlock’s chair, behind Molly, pulling at his waistcoat to straighten it. She held Rosie under the arms and she held her out for Mycroft to take. He did so, holding her out in front of him, staring at her, looking terrified.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mycroft, she’s not a bomb …” Molly said, taking her back from the elder Holmes for a moment. “Come here.” She slipped her hand into Mycroft’s, which was large and soft against hers, pulling him over to sit down on the couch. He went with her, sitting down, watching her for a moment. Rosie began to whimper again before Molly sat Rosie down on his knee, taking his wrist in her hand to position his arm around the baby. Rosie gurgled, stuffing her fingers into her mouth. Once she was situated securely in Mycroft’s arms, Molly stood back. He was tense, his back ramrod straight and he looked so scared. “Mycroft …” He looked up at her. “Relax.” She moved close to him again, arranging the cushions behind his back to she could relax back into the couch a little better. He took another deep breath and melted slightly into the comfort of the cushions. Molly put the towel that had previously been over her shoulder over Mycroft’s, just in case. “I’ll just be a few moments. You be okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes …” he said but he didn’t sound very convincing. Molly nodded, watching him for a moment before she went to the go to the bathroom. Mycroft looked down at Rosie, who was trying her hardest to stuff her entire hand into her mouth, gurgling and looking damn adorable while she was doing it. God, what on Earth possessed him to have </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought? This tiny human, </span>
  <em>
    <span>adorable</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He’d never referred to anything as adorable in his life. But he had to admit she was. She was the spit of John, but he could definitely see traces of the late Mary Watson in the little girl’s features. She suddenly removed her hand from her mouth and instantly grabbed for Mycroft’s tie, the elder Holmes brother trying to pretend it didn’t bother him. It was just … saliva … from a baby’s mouth … </span>
  <em>
    <span>all over his favourite tie. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But then Rosie’s face began to fall, her eyes becoming wet and her tears suddenly began falling as she began to cry. Mycroft’s chest tightened in pure panic before he took her gently under the arms again and turned her against his shoulder, like Molly had done before. He stood again and began to pace the living room, running his hand up and down her back like Molly had done. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t cry …” he said gently into the baby’s ear. “Your father would never forgive me if he could hear you now, my dear. He’d think it was my fault. It … it usually is when it comes to your father and … your Uncle Sherlock. We don’t get on well all the time, you see.” Rosie was still crying into his shoulder, Mycroft’s large hand splaying over her back to keep her close. “I remember not wanting to hold Sherlock when he was a baby … Mummy wanted me to, but I was a jealous brother. Another baby to take Mummy’s attention away from me. You see, I’m the smart one … always have been.” He smiled gently at the memory, something he and Sherlock had spoken about not long ago. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t be smart, Sherlock, I’m the smart one. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rosie began to quieten a little, the sound of Mycroft’s voice in her ear calming her a little. “But really, though I’d never tell him to his face, I need Sherlock. He is my brother after all. He is very dear to me. I know you’ll keep my secret, my dear.” Rosie lifted her head from Mycroft’s shoulder, her inquisitive eyes roaming all over his face before she rubbed her wet eyes. Mycroft ran a long finger over her cheek, wiping away a lone tear that had escaped. “You see, there was no need for tears, was there?” Her fingers grabbed for his waistcoat, bunching it in her fist for a moment before she lay back down on Mycroft’s chest, sucking on her thumb, as the elder Holmes pressed his cheek to the top of her head. Mycroft was so engrossed in the little human that he didn’t notice Molly watching from the doorway, a small smile on her face as she watched them and it definitely wasn’t like Mycroft not to notice. She quickly grabbed her phone from her pocket and took a photo, which looked so natural, she had no idea what he had been so scared about. He considered sending it to John but she wanted this image for herself. She pocketed her phone again before making herself know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tea?” she said and Mycroft turned at the sound of her voice. He smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh … yes, thank you,” he replied before turning his attention back to Rosie, who was gripping his waistcoat like her life depended on it. He stopped pacing the living room and went back to sit on the couch, holding Rosie close. Molly spared a couple of glances at him while the kettle boiled, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she watched how soft and gentle he became with someone as small and delicate as Rosie. The little one’s eyes began to droop as she sucked her thumb, a little drop of saliva dripping from her mouth and down onto Mycroft’s waistcoat, but once again he didn’t notice. He looked up from Rosie and met Molly’s eyes, Molly blushing gently at getting caught staring but she smiled at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a natural, Mycroft,” she said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I assure you Molly, I’m really not,” he said, his large hand cradling the little one’s head against his chest, his thumb stroking the back of her head gently. She smiled at the use of her first name from his lips as she turned back to make their tea. She picked up the cups (luckily, she had found two clean ones Sherlock hadn’t used for any experiments with body parts) and she carried them through to the living room, putting Mycroft’s down on the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Two sugars and a dash of milk …” she said and Mycroft smiled, nodding gently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you,” he said. The silence was comfortable between then, only small noises coming from Rosie, who was trying her hardest to fight sleep as she rested against Mycroft’s chest. “I feel … surprisingly content here in this moment, especially in such pleasant company.” Molly blushed and looked down at her cup for a moment, a smile appearing on her lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m … I’m glad, Mycroft,” she said. She took a deep breath and spoke quickly before her courage gave out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you want to have dinner …?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to accompany me to dinner …?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their questions came in unison, making Molly giggle at their shared thought process at that moment in time. Mycroft raised his eyebrow, a small smile pulling at the side of his mouth too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Allow me, my dear. I would very much like it if you would accompany me to dinner tonight, Molly. Would you like to?” he asked and she smiled that little bit wider.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please,” she whispered, reaching over to take his free hand. He held her hand in his large one and ran a thumb over her knuckles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I look forward to it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door to 221B opened and John entered, Sherlock traipsing behind him. It had been a long day and Mrs Hudson would be in hospital for at least a week, despite her protests. John had given it to Sherlock tight all day, but he knew the detective cared about the landlady more than he was letting on. They worry in his eyes in the ambulance ride had been evidence enough for John. He went to close the door behind Sherlock when he looked out into the street and sighed deeply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have a visitor,” John said, nodding to the black sedan parked over the road, on the opposite side from 221B. Sherlock followed his gaze and he groaned audibly before he looked towards the door. Yes, the door knocker had been straightened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever can brother mine want now?” Sherlock asked. John gestured towards the stairs, but Sherlock let him go first. John moved upstairs quietly, just in case Rosie was asleep. Whatever Mycroft wanted, neither doctor nor detective were in a mood for a case tonight. John reached for the handle to the living room, pushing the door open, both his and Sherlock’s chairs empty. He looked around the room, peering into the kitchen before he turned to the other side of the room and stopped dead in his tracks. Sherlock was too busy typing away on his phone that he didn’t notice that John had stopped walking around until he collided with his back. “John …” He looked at John before he turned his gaze to what John was looking at. There, lying on the couch together, were Molly and Mycroft, cuddled together with little Rosie, who was looking more at home on Mycroft’s chest than John had ever seen her look elsewhere. Mycroft’s long, lanky frame took up all of the couch as he lay along it, his shoes having been kicked off, feet crossed at the ankles upon the arm of the couch. Molly lay between Mycroft and the back of the couch, her head on his shoulder, her leg resting over Mycroft’s and her hand lying on his chest next to Rosie’s hand. Mycroft’s large hand splayed across the top of Rosie’s back, his long fingers resting on the back of her neck. John had never seen Mycroft so content; he always had a frown for them when he appeared at 221B.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen it all now …” Sherlock said, taking off his coat and throwing it onto his chair. But John couldn’t help but smile. Mycroft looked years younger, his dishevelled appearance not something John was used to seeing. His top buttons of his shirt were undone and his tie was pulled loose, though he still had a waistcoat on, which couldn’t have been very comfortable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t stare, Dr Watson. It is rather rude,” Mycroft said suddenly from the sofa, startling John who hadn’t realised he was, now, awake. Sherlock rolled his eyes and dumped himself unceremoniously into his armchair, continuing to text as he did so. John found himself still smiling as he watched Mycroft open his eyes and look down at the top of Rosie’s head, his index finger running over her soft head, not unnoticed by John, who was pleasantly surprised before his hand rubbed her back gently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t have you down as someone who had much interaction with babies,” John said, sliding his jacket off his shoulders. Mycroft sighed but nodded gently from where he lay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You would be correct in your assumption, Dr Watson,” he said. “But I found I could not deny the young lady when she wanted to be held.” He shifted under both Molly and Rosie, his arm beginning to cramp. John noted his dilemma and he moved forward and he slid his arms under Rosie and guided her to his own shoulder slowly as not to disturb her. Mycroft missed her comfort and warmth immediately. He looked down at Molly, who was still tucked into his side. She was so beautiful lying there that he found himself staring that little bit too long that John had to clear his throat to get his attention. Mycroft looked away and slid himself out from under Molly, laying her down against the cushion gently, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over her. He stood to his full height and straightened his waistcoat before smoothing a hand over his hair to make sure it wasn't sticking up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll put you on the babysitter list, shall I?” John asked with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At the bottom …” Sherlock quipped from behind him, Mycroft narrowing his eyes at his brother. “What are you doing here anyway, Mycroft?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was simply looking in on you, brother mine. How is Mrs Hudson?” he asked, sitting back down on the couch for a moment, down near Molly’s feet to put his shoes back on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Broken hip. She’ll be in hospital for a few days,” John said. Mycroft stood from the couch again once his shoes were on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How unfortunate … she’ll hate that,” Mycroft said and John chuckled gently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, she will,” he said. “Excuse me a sec, I need to put Rosie down.” John disappeared from the room and Sherlock and Mycroft were left alone together. Sherlock eyed his big brother suspiciously as Mycroft grabbed his suit jacket and began to slide it on. Sherlock cast a glance over at Molly’s sleeping form before looking back at Mycroft through narrowed eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it, Sherlock? Say what you have to say, man. Your eyes are burning though my very being,” he said, frowning at Sherlock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You two looked … comfortable,” he said with a little hesitation, like he was searching for a right word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Too comfortable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You hate babies … and people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t think people can change, brother mine?” Mycroft asked, folding his arms over his chest. Sherlock stood and moved into Mycroft’s personal space, both Holmes’ boys staring each other out. John came back into the room, watching both of them carefully as he moved to his armchair, sitting on the arm of it to face them, folding his own arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can't, no. What are your intentions …?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I <em>beg</em> you not to finish that sentence, little brother. You cannot speak for her. You belittled her before, treated her like dirt until you needed her help to </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span> …” Mycroft said through his teeth. None of them noticed the hurt pass over John’s face as they spoke about Sherlock’s ‘death’. It was still a sore spot. They also didn’t notice Molly stir and wake to their voices, watching both elder and younger Holmes standing almost chest to chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you? You think its time to step up and be her knight in shining armour,” Sherlock asked. “The British Government finally thinks its time for a relationship …”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never said that,” Mycroft said. “Molly is … a friend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Friend? You don’t have friends, you don’t even have a … goldfish.” <em>Goldfish</em>? Molly was confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Times have changed, brother mine,” Mycroft said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I forbid it … you do not get to be with her …” Sherlock said and Molly, from her spot on the couch, had had enough. She sat up, staring right at Sherlock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to decide who I get to be with?” Molly asked, all three men looking towards her in shock, not realising she was awake. She pushed the blanket off and she stood up, moving towards them. She poked Sherlock hard in the chest. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> … you had many a chance but you brushed me off, you … you didn’t see me, just like … like everyone. Like Tom, like … like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jim</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>criminal</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Molly …” Sherlock began.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and it just shows you that my taste in men before now has been absolutely ridiculous,” she said. “And the moment someone I actually like shows me some attention and likes me for me, you make decisions that aren’t yours to make, they’re mine …” Sherlock had the gall to actually look shocked, looking over to John, who basically shrugged and his expression screamed ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s got you there, mate</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’ Mycroft stood there, feeling like the spare prick at the wedding while Molly gave Sherlock a very thorough bollocking, which in itself was rather amusing. Then she turned to him, slipping her hand into his, making him look down at their entwined fingers, swallowing hard. “I’m very excited for our date tonight, Mycroft.” The elder Holmes found himself smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am too, Molly,” he said gently, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing the back of it sweetly. Both Sherlock and John stared for a moment, watching the blush form over Molly’s cheeks rapidly. “I’m afraid I must go. I have some things to attend to before we dine. I’ll have a car pick you up at seven.” Molly nodded excitedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m looking forward to it,” she said, standing up on her tip toes to press a kiss to Mycroft’s cheek, just catching the side of his mouth slightly. His heartbeat quickened in his chest before he smiled, bidding Sherlock and John a quick farewell too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” John said quickly, making Mycroft turn to him before he got to the door. “Both of you. For looking after Rosie. I appreciate it.” Mycroft nodded gently, smiling ever so slightly at the doctor before he left. The other three were silent as they listened to his footsteps going downstairs and continued to stand in silence until the door closed behind Mycroft. Molly then punched Sherlock on the arm, not too hard but hard enough for him to know she was annoyed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You complete arse,” she said through her teeth before she took a deep breath. “Can you just let be happy for two sodding minutes?” She took another breath, to calm herself down. “Please?” Sherlock nodded but he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “I have to go get ready for my date.” She picked up her coat and slipped it on before she moved to the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Molly …” Sherlock called after her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mycroft has an incredibly sweet tooth, but doesn’t like to indulge due to weight issues he had when we were children. He’s very insecure about his weight,” he said. Molly frowned gently. Mycroft was perfect in her eyes. “Let him know it’s okay to have something every now and then and tell him he looks good … because he doesn’t see it.” Wait, was Sherlock </span>
  <em>
    <span>complimenting</span>
  </em>
  <span> his big brother? “I’m not one for outbursts of brotherly love, but I’ve always looked up to him, no matter what differences we have, though I’d never tell him to his face.” Molly let a small smile appear on her lips. She met John’s eyes, who lifted his eyebrows in shock behind Sherlock’s back. Molly nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Sherlock. See you both later …” she said before she left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I <em>never</em> thought I’d see the day you’d compliment your big brother,” John said, moving to sit in his armchair as Sherlock dumped himself down in his, taking a deep breath, looking absolutely knackered, like something as simple as complimenting another human being had drained him of all his energy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And it won’t happen again until my </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> dying day, so sod off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John burst out laughing.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt: mash up of two different prompts. 1) Molly texting Mycroft in the middle of a meeting and 2) someone walks in just as sex is about to happen.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was almost 7pm when Mycroft checked his watch. This meeting had been going on for far too long in his opinion and, for the first time in a while, he just longed for it to be over. He knew that the national security was important but Christ, he was tired. He’d luckily said all he had to say during the meeting and now it was just listening, which wasn’t very good for his tiredness. Lady Smallwood was going over numbers on a projector while Mycroft and six others listened. Anthea sat behind Mycroft, against the back wall of the meeting room, no doubt tapping away on her Blackberry, as was the norm. He was watching the slides from the projector, until the screen lighting up on his phone caught his attention. It was face down but it reflected in the glass table, prompting Mycroft to pick it up to check it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hi handsome. Will you be home for dinner? M x</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft felt himself smile every so slightly at the message. Then again, she always made him smile. Molly Hooper had made him a better person full stop. She was just beautiful, intelligent, funny and completely and utterly his. God, he loved her so much. He cast a quick glance at Lady Smallwood, who was still busy speaking, before he looked back down at his phone and typed out a quick reply.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope so, my dear. I’m still in a meeting right now, but hopefully not for much longer. MH x</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He put the phone back down and continued to listen, inputting when he was asked, until his phone went again, this time with a picture attached.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope so too. I got you something nice for dessert. M x</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dessert? That piqued Mycroft’s interest. He lifted his glass of water, taking a drink as he opened the photo Molly had attached to the message before he promptly began to choke on the liquid halfway down his throat. It took him a few moments to realised Lady Smallwood had stopped talking and everyone was looking at him, but he couldn’t stop himself from coughing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr Holmes, are you alright?” Lady Smallwood asked but he just waved his hand in dismissal. Suddenly, Anthea’s hand was against his back, slapping against it to try and help him. His eyes watered and he could still feel more coughing coming. He stood, grabbing his phone and excused himself for a moment from the room. Anthea offered to accompany him but he held out his hand as the other covered his mouth. He left the room, closing the door behind him for a moment. Everyone’s eyes went to Anthea for a second, who shrugged and sat back down with her Blackberry.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The British Government almost choked to death … I pray whatever you sent him that made him almost die was exactly what I suggested. A.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Molly’s reply came almost instantly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh yes. Is he okay? Molly. X</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s had to take a moment. You’re something else, Molly Hooper. A</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Outside the office and out of sight, Mycroft had finally finished almost hacking up his lungs, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief before he opened the photo once more. There in the photo was Molly, his Molly, lovely, sweet, innocent, beautiful Molly. She was lying on her front on their bed, only half her face in the photo, her chin propped on her fist, her cheeks stained with a blush, so she could show exactly what made him choke on his water. The fact she was lying there, as naked as the day she was born; the lovely flawless skin of her bare back, her perfect round arse on show for him, her legs bent at the knees, feet in the air, ankles crossed. There was nothing more that he could see but the fact she had taken a nude photo of herself and sent it to him during his meeting was something else. God, he couldn’t wait to get home to her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You are a devil woman. MY devil woman. MH x</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Glad you liked. I’ll be waiting. M x</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft took a deep breath and he straightened his tie before he made his way back into the meeting room, feeling every pair of eyes on him. “Apologies, do carry on,” he said, before meeting Anthea’s eyes, who was biting her lip to keep from laughing. He narrowed his eyes at her before he turned from her, sitting down in his chair again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please let this meeting end soon</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he prayed. All he could think about was Molly’s naked skin and what he would do to her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-- -- -- -- -- -- --</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Molly was in Mycroft’s kitchen, making herself some tea when she heard the front door open and close. She smiled brightly, turning to see Mycroft enter the kitchen. He stood and stared at her for a moment, taking her in. She had on his navy blue silk robe that was too big and too long for her, but it suited her so well. It slipped off her shoulder, giving him a look at her creamy skin on show. Mycroft dropped his briefcase and umbrella to the floor before he shrugged off his coat. Before she could even say anything, he took two large strides and he had her in his arms, lips meeting hers passionately as he held her close. Her arms went round his neck as he pushed her up against the kitchen counter, lifting her so she sat on the edge. The sounds she made as they kissed were exquisite and Mycroft knew he could listen to them all day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You sent me a nude photo …” he said when they finally parted for air.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I did.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You are just </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span> …” he whispered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“In all honesty, it was Anthea’s idea, but I wanted to …” she said. Anthea. Of course it was. Mycroft kissed her again. He’d have to thank Anthea for the pleasant distraction during the meeting, even if it almost killed him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope that you are still very much nude under this robe, Dr Hooper?” Mycroft asked with a raised eyebrow. Molly bit her lip before she began to undo his tie and top shirt buttons. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you undo it and find out?” she said, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders. Mycroft caught it on the way down his arms before he threw it over one of the kitchen chairs. He swallowed hard before his hands went to the tie on the robe, Molly’s breath coming harder now as she watched his hands. They’d done this so many times but something about this made it feel like the first time all over again. He pulled the tie, undoing it slowly, the robe falling open a little, but not enough to see anything yet. He slid his hands beneath the material, the robe falling open to show that Molly was, indeed, gloriously naked beneath it. He breathed deeply.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Molly …” he said and she cupped his face, leaning in for another kiss, pressing herself against his clothed body. His hands slid under the robe and round her back, feeling as much of her soft skin as he could. He felt her hands against his front, pulling at his waistcoat buttons quickly, not even removing it before she went for his shirt buttons, undoing them quickly too. He loved the feel of her against him and so did his cock by the feel of things. The moment her hands touched his bare skin, he groaned and she pressed her hips forward into his. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve missed you today,” she said, pulling back from the kiss, only for Mycroft to trail kisses from her lips down her neck and to her collarbone, Molly letting her head fall back, her hand running through his hair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And I you, my dear,” his voice rumbled against her skin. Neither pathologist or politician heard the front door open and close again, both too wrapped up in each other to even notice anyone had entered the house until the sound of Sherlock’s voice cut through their bliss like a knife, the shout of ‘Mycroft!’ making them both turn to the sound of the voice before Molly pulled the robe around herself to cover her nakedness before burying her face in Mycroft’s neck, absolutely mortified. Sherlock and John stood there, absolutely glued to the spot, Mycroft not moving so that he could help Molly hide her embarrassment. He wasn’t sure he could move if he was honest, his cock was so interested in their previous actions and he definitely didn’t want Sherlock or John to see him in such a state. He put his arm around Molly, holding her to him for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose you have a good reason for this, Sherlock …” Mycroft said calmly, surprised at how calm he was because he would have loved to </span>
  <em>
    <span>murder</span>
  </em>
  <span> his baby brother at that moment in time. He felt Molly move against him, tying his robe again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mycroft … you … you and Molly?” John said, sounding shocked, but when he met John’s eyes, there was a hint of a smile there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes …” he said, as Molly finally looked up, her face red, sliding down from the worktop. She met Mycroft’s eyes for a moment before she slid out from between him and the counter, running her hand over his as a comfort before moving to sit at the table. Mycroft straightened up and he quickly did the buttons of his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Since when?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Six months … six months today, in fact,” he said, smoothing his hands down the front of his buttoned shirt before he turned to them. “Now …”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you had a new boyfriend, Molly … “ Sherlock said, cutting Mycroft off. “But how did I miss this?” Mycroft smiled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I didn’t want you to know …” Mycroft said. “Funnily enough, I like it when you don’t know my private affairs, brother mine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that all she is? An </span>
  <em>
    <span>affair</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow. Mycroft’s expression turned thunderous and Molly got up from her chair and went to stand between the brothers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sherlock, what do you want? Frankly, I’m embarrassed this has happened. But you interrupted what I have been waiting on for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>entire</span>
  </em>
  <span> day!” she said. She turned to Mycroft. “Now, I’m going upstairs to wait and if you do not come up those stairs in the next twenty minutes to shag me silly, Mycroft Holmes, I’m going to be very upset.” Mycroft’s eyebrows flew up in shock at the way she spoke in front of Sherlock and John, before he looked at the other two, Sherlock looking just as shocked and John looking so smug it was unbelievable.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am,” Mycroft said, seriously. All the embarrassment she had felt earlier had melted away and she was just plainly annoyed. Molly then took one more glance at their uninvited guests before she grabbed a clean glass from the draining board, stomping past them to grab the open rose wine in Mycroft’s fridge before she hurried from the room, the three men listening to her footsteps slowly fade away before a door was slammed upstairs. Mycroft looked at Sherlock again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Molly Hooper is not just an affair, brother mine. I love her …” Mycroft said confidently. Sherlock turned to John, who looked fit to burst. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Love? Have you ever experienced love before, Mycroft?” Sherlock said with a snort, Mycroft staring him out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you?” he said and Sherlock’s face fell. “Now, discuss with me what you want to discuss right now and leave so I can go and do whatever my lady desires.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sixteen minutes later, when Sherlock was satisfied with enough information that he came for (and not wanting to deal with the wrath of a horny <em>and</em> annoyed Molly Hooper), he and John left, Mycroft sighing deeply before he turned to the stairs and made his way upstairs to his love. His long legs took the stairs two at a time. He made his way along the hall to the bedroom and opened the door, looking over to the bed before he stopped. Molly was lying asleep in the middle of the bed, still wearing his robe, her half drunk glass of wine sitting on the bedside table. While part of him was a little disappointed she was asleep, she looked so comfortable that he wanted nothing more than just to slip in beside her and hold her. He began to strip out of his clothes, placing them over the chair in the corner before he pulled on his pyjamas. He lifted the duvet and slipped in beside Molly, pulling her close to his chest, reaching over to turn the lamp off before he rested on the pillow. She stirred and opened her eyes, looking up at Mycroft.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“M’sorry … I must have dozed off,” she said, making to move but Mycroft pulled her a little tighter to his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, my love. My little brother did always have the worst timing. And you were up extremely early this morning for work, so I think I can forgive you,” he said, leaning down for a kiss. She snuggled against his shoulder, wrapping an arm around him. “Happy six month anniversary, my dear.” She smiled against his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you, Mycroft …” she said, kissing him deeply. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I’ll make you your favourite breakfast.” He kissed her again gently, a twinkle in his eye.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d rather eat you for breakfast.” Molly giggled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m all yours.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt: Mycroft kisses Molly and she freaks out.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Mycroft Holmes just kissed me.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary Watson stood holding her front door open, holding Rosie against her chest, looking at Molly Hooper in disbelief as she stood there on her doorstep, cheeks wind whipped and eyes watering slightly. Her hair was damp from the rain and she had a look of complete bewilderment on her features. </p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, <em> Mycroft Holmes </em> . The British Government, tall, handsome brother of Sherlock’s … he <em> kissed </em> me, Mary,” she said. <em> Handsome </em>? Where had that come from? Oh God, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. But he was, she certainly thought so. More so lately, the more she got to know him and spend time with him. Mary nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I know Mycroft, but … what? You know what, never mind. You are going to come in, I’m going to put Rosie down for a nap and we’re going to open some wine and you’re going to tell me everything,” Mary said, stepping aside to let Molly enter before she closed the door behind her. “Go sit down. I’ll put Rosie down and then I’ll be right back.” Molly nodded as she took off her bag and coat, putting them down on the couch before she began pacing Mary’s sitting room. She brought her hand up to her lips, fingers running along the bottom one, like she could still feel the press of Mycroft’s mouth to hers, as gentle as it was, it was still a kiss. The butterflies in her stomach were immense and they still hadn’t calmed down since she had left Mycroft. She had all but run from him, not sparing him a glance as she left Bart’s, willing the blush on her cheeks to die down. She sat down on the couch just as Mary’s footsteps on the stairs could be heard, the woman herself entering the living room. She put the baby monitor on the coffee table before she went to the kitchen, returning with two large glasses and a bottle of wine. She sat down beside Molly, opening the bottle and pouring them both a generous amount. Molly quickly grabbed it and took a quick drink, making Mary raise her eyebrows. “Jesus, Molls.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know … I know,” she said, putting down her glass again and burying her face in her hands. “God, Mary. I don’t know what to do.” </p><p> </p><p>“Did you like it?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“The kiss. Did you like it?” Mary asked. That was the question. Did she like kissing Mycroft Holmes? God, <em> yes </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“I … yes, it was …. God, Mary it was just so soft and gentle. He’s was so close and he cupped my cheek with his hand, god, those hands …” Molly said, realising she was rambling. Mary’s smirk and raised eyebrow made Molly’s blush rise again before she sighed. “God, if its not one Holmes brother, it’s the other. I’ve gotten over Sherlock … why did this have to happen?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you two have been speaking a lot more lately, right? Maybe he’s come to like you more than a friend?” Mary said, taking a sip of her wine.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t think Mycroft Holmes was the type of person to have friends,” Molly said, picking up her wine again, just as John walked through the front door. He stopped when he saw the two women and their wine, raising an eyebrow. </p><p> </p><p>“Wine in the afternoon? Has Rosie been that bad?” he said with a smile, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up before he joined them in the living room. He leaned down to kiss Mary before he greeted Molly. “What’s all this?” He sat down in the armchair across from them. “Or is it girl chat? Do you need me to make myself scarce?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mycroft Holmes kissed Molly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mary!” Molly exclaimed, her face burning with embarrassment. John seemed to have froze, his eyebrows almost in his hairline as he took in the information he was just given. It took him a few moments before he sat forward, elbows resting on his knees as he steepled his fingers, a very Sherlock-like act. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Mycroft </em> … kissed you?” John asked and Molly nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Just tell us what happened while John computes the information,” Mary said, rolling her eyes at her husband, Molly nodding again. She took a deep breath. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, I was at Bart’s …”</p><p> </p><p>-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Molly was having a bad day. Well, as bad as it could be with Sherlock hanging over every body from Greg’s latest case, rushing her into finding something that linked all the bodies. So far Molly had found nothing, currently almost elbow deep in the contents of some poor bugger’s stomach for the third time today. Greg had had to make himself scarce as the smell was far too much for right after his lunch,, especially from the body of Mrs Jarvis, who had been lying the longest. She’d never heard anyone gag so hard. Sherlock had merely rolled his eyes and he hurried her. Molly was getting impatient with him. She was a perfectionist - if something was to be found, she would find it.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Molly, is there any way you could hurry this up?” Sherlock said for the third time in the last ten minutes and Molly had had enough. She removed her hands from the body and she slammed her tools down on the metal tray next to her, the noise loud and hard on the ears, echoing throughout the morgue. Sherlock startled at the sound before she hauled off her gloves, throwing them down too. “Molly I don’t have time for you to stop looking …” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Get out.” Sherlock stopped at Molly’s words, yet she wouldn’t look at him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Molly!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I said get out, Sherlock,” she said, turning to him finally. The door to the morgue opened and Greg stepped back in, looking a bit less green than he did when he left, but he stopped as he sensed the tension in the room. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “What’s gotten into you?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Me? What’s gotten into me? One - you pulled me in here on my day off because you didn’t want anyone else … I had plans, Sherlock. Maybe that’s not something you are familiar with. Two - you’re standing over me, demanding I do things to your satisfaction. This is my job, Sherlock. I mess up, I’m done for. So don’t rush me. Three - I want you to leave … actually, you know what. I’ll leave. I’ll get someone else to finish this autopsy and I hope they find the answer you’re looking for,” she yelled, Sherlock stepping back from her as the small, very angry woman advanced towards him until he was flush against the wall.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Molly, please don’t leave,” Greg begged from the door. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Well, until you get your consulting detective under control, you won’t get another minute of my time. I’m sorry, Greg, but he’s got on my last nerve today…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Molly, for me then,” Greg begged. “I need you.” Molly looked over at Greg, whose expression was that of a plea for help. She sighed, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Okay …” she said. “Okay, I’ll do it. But you’ll take him out of here until I’m finished, I beg you.” Greg nodded quickly. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Anything you want,” he said and Sherlock looked scandalised for a moment. “You’ll do as the lady wants, Sherlock.” Molly turned back to Mrs Jarvis on the slab and she pulled on a pair of fresh gloves. She looked over her shoulder to Sherlock, who watched her for a moment before he left the room with a swish of his coat, mumbling something under his breath she couldn’t make out. She continued her work on the body, the peace and quiet of the morgue back to normal. It took her another twenty minutes to do everything she needed, taking samples to be sent for analysis. Greg finally came back into the room and Molly was finishing up, Mrs Jarvis all sewn back up. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’m sorry about earlier, Molly,” he said, joining her over at her desk.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “It’s fine. He just doesn’t seem to realise that this is my job, not just his hobby,” she said. “I’ve sent samples - waiting for the toxicology report. But I have noticed that Mrs Jarvis was diabetic, puncture marks on her abdomen suggests that's where she injects her insulin. She also had scarring on her liver, possibly excessive drinking. If it’s poison like Sherlock thinks it is, the report will tell us. My guess would be would be that the poison was injected instead of her insulin or administered through her alcoholism. Until the report comes back, I won’t know what she has taken,” Molly said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help at the moment, Greg.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You’ve done more than enough. Thanks Molly. When the report comes back, send me a copy, will you?” he asked and she nodded just as his phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and sighed. “Excuse me, Molls. Got to run. Catch up with you later.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Sure,” she said as Greg answered his phone and left the room. She sighed gently before she went to Mrs Jarvis, zipping her back into the body bag completely before she slid her back into the drawer, closing it behind her. Molly shrugged off her lab coat and she went to the large sink in the corner, rolling up her sleeves and washing her hands. A text alert came through on her phone as she dried them afterwards, making her groan, hoping it wasn’t Sherlock. She slid her phone out of her pocket and opened the message. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I apologise for my little brother’s behaviour this afternoon, Dr Hooper. I don’t know how you put up with him. MH.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mycroft. She smiled. She wasn’t sure how she put up with him either but at least one Holmes knew patience. Sherlock wouldn’t know patience if it jumped up and bit him on the arse. She typed out a quick reply. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Oh I’m used to it by now. Thank you Mycroft. I appreciate it. Molly.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Would you like to have coffee? MH.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Molly smiled. She and Mycroft had gotten to know each other a little better over the last few weeks and she considered him a friend, not that she thought he considered her one. She never knew what the Holmes boys thought of people, really. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>That would be lovely. I’m just finishing up. Molly.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She grabbed her coat from the rack and pulled it on, grabbing her bag before she left the morgue, walking along the corridor towards the exit, desperately needing some fresh air. She looked down at her phone as she walked outside noting that there hadn’t been a reply from Mycroft, only to look up and see the British Government standing against a black sedan, umbrella hooked over his forearm while he held two large steaming take-away cups in his hands. Molly smiled and she rushed over. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Hi,” she said as he handed her the coffee, the smell going round her heart. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “On the chance your having an off day, I got your guilty pleasure. Caramel macchiato with extra caramel,” he said with a small smile and she grinned back. He was so thoughtful. He held out his arm and she took it, both of them walking along the street together. Molly stopped wondering a while back how he knew things about her - the Holmes brothers were something else, she knew that now. “I am sorry about Sherlock - I don’t think he realises how much you do for him. He’s lucky to have you to help him.” Molly looked up at Mycroft before she took a drink of her coffee. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “He’s lucky none of my surgical instruments are lodged up his arsehole,” she said, almost groaning at the caramel taste that coated her tongue. God, that was good coffee. Mycroft chuckled gently next to her and she looked at him again. She’d never heard him laugh out loud before. It was something that made her heart beat harder in her chest, a smile coming to her own lips. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “He does appreciate your help, don’t let him irritate you,” Mycroft said, gesturing to a bench, Molly letting go of his arm and moving to sit down, the elder Holmes taking a seat next to her, crossing his long legs, resting his coffee cup on his thigh. They sat close, watching people go about their daily business. Molly warmed her hands on her coffee cup. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You shouldn’t have to apologise for him, you know. He’s said some hurtful things to me before, I know some weren’t meant, but others I’m not so sure,” she said. Mycroft turned to her. “But its not your fault so you shouldn’t have to say you’re sorry.” He sighed. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “No I shouldn’t … but I find I do it more often than I realise,” he said. They were both silent for a moment, Molly shifting a little, her leg brushing up against Mycroft’s accidentally, but he didn’t stir.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Why did you want to have coffee, Mycroft? You don’t usually seek me out for company, it’s more we meet unexpectedly,” she asked. Mycroft continued to stare ahead, but she saw him swallow quite hard before he looked down at his hands. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I … I have come to like having your company, Dr Hooper, despite my baby brother believing I’m destined to be alone,” he said, taking  a quick gulp of his coffee, Molly watching as his tongue poked out to clean up the drip of coffee on his bottom lip. She took a moment to look him over, realising that she thought he looked really good. He interested her - he had time for her, which Sherlock never did. Last time, he bought her coffee he ended up spilling it all over her as he rushed out of the lab after he got a text about a break in a case. She felt herself blush when she realised Mycroft had turned to look at her, only to find her staring at him. She looked back down at her coffee, moving to take another drink when his hand on her arm stopped her, making Molly turn back to him. His large hand cupped her cheek gently and before she knew what was happened, he’d moved closer and his lips were pressed to hers. She froze, unsure how she should react until she felt herself relax a bit, but by the time she was ready to kiss back he had pulled away. He had a small blush over his cheeks, She stared at him for a moment, her own cheeks ablaze before she stood up quickly, his hand falling from her cheek, pressing her own free hand to her lips. “Molly …?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “I have to go …” she said quietly. </em> Coward, <em> her head screamed. She turned away from Mycroft and she walked down the street away from him, not sure if she wanted him to call her back to him. She felt tears in her eyes at how much of a coward she was being. She actually did like Mycroft but she was terrified. She clutched her coffee cup to her chest, feeling Mycroft’s eyes on her until she turned out of the street, letting out the breath she didn’t realise she had been holding. She quickly hailed a cab, climbing in and rhyming off Mary and John’s address quickly, hoping her friend was in. She had no idea what to do. </em></p><p> </p><p>-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --</p><p> </p><p>“You just left him there?” Mary asked, taking a sip of her wine as she watched Molly. The pathologist sighed and sat back against the couch. </p><p> </p><p>“I panicked … I’m not used to someone being interested in me first,” she said. “Especially not someone as smart and as handsome as Mycroft Holmes.” John raised an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“In the entire time I have known Mycroft, I’ve never known him to be interested in anyone,” he said, picking up his glass from the table, which he’s gone to fetch while Molly had been telling her story. Molly looked up at John. “Are you … over Sherlock?”</p><p> </p><p>“John …”</p><p> </p><p>“Mary, it’s a valid question. I don’t want Molly hurt and Sherlock has not been kind in the past. Not that he notices he’s not being kind, it’s just the way he is,” John said. “A complete twat, if you ask me, at times.” Molly smiled gently, tapping her fingers on the side of her wine glass.</p><p> </p><p>“Sherlock is my friend. Whatever I felt for him, it fizzled out a while ago,” she said. “Mycroft … he’s just something else, something I can’t quite put my finger on, but he’s made me feel like I matter. Sherlock has told me I matter before, but then he turns back to his usual dickhead self.” She sighed. “What do I do? Mycroft isn’t going to want to speak to me … I left him on a bench in the middle of London. He’s going to think he offended me by kissing me, which he most certainly did not. I just … didn’t expect it.” she sighed again, just as her phone’s text alert went off. She pulled it out of her pocket, her heart almost stopping at the name on her phone screen.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I apologise if I was too forward. I am not usually so inclined when it comes to members of the opposite sex. Please forgive me? MH </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A very fancy and polite way of saying sorry, Molly thought before she smiled gently. She needed to find him.</p><p> </p><p>“Mycroft?” Mary asked and Molly looked up and nodded. </p><p> </p><p>“I have to go. I have to see him,” she said, standing up. She looked back down at her phone before typing out a quick text.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I should be the one saying sorry. I was a coward. Where are you? Molly. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Molly …” John said, looking out the window, Mary moving over to what he was looking at, just as Molly’s phone went off again<em> . </em>She felt her breath catch in her throat as she read the text message there. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Outside. MH. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Molly rushed over to the window, standing next to John and Mary, as she watched Mycroft Holmes step out of a black car, close the door behind him and lean back against the vehicle and just wait. He looked nervous, just like Molly felt. John and Mary turned their heads to Molly, who looked at them each in turn, Mary looking positively giddy, before she took a deep breath and went to the front door slowly.</p><p> </p><p>“Go get him, girl,” Mary said and Molly smiled at her friend. John just looked bewildered at the whole situation but he smiled gently as Molly opened the door and went outside. Mycroft looked up from the ground as he heard the door open, their eyes meeting.  Molly played with the ends of her sleeves in nervousness, smiling gently at Mycroft. He pushed himself off the car to stand up straight. He opened his mouth to speak but Molly stepped forward and put her hands up.</p><p>“Let me. Mycroft … I didn’t mean to embarrass you by leaving you there. I’m sorry. I panicked,” she said, playing with her sleeves again as she felt herself blush. She felt Mary and John’s gaze on her and the elder Holmes, feeling them stand behind her in the doorway. She moved forward a little to the gate on their little garden, still a decent distance between her and Mycroft. “It took me a while to … get over Sherlock, and I didn’t want to think your advances were because you felt sorry for me.” Mycroft nodded, slipping his hands into his suit trouser pockets. </p><p> </p><p>“I understand,” he said gently. “Then you’ll be happy to know I do not feel sorry for you and I am absolutely ecstatic that you have gotten over my little brother. For someone so smart, he can be so stupid, not to see what was in front of him.” Molly felt her cheeks warm further, her fingers gripping the ends of her sleeves so tightly she was scared she’d rip them. “I do apologise I was so forward.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t apologise … you don’t have to,” she said. She moved closer to him again until she was almost standing toe to toe with him, looking up at him, Mycroft being a good bit taller than she was. “If you wouldn’t mind, I think you should kiss me again.” She smiled, Mycroft letting himself smile gently too. He took one more step forward before his hands came up to cup her face, Molly’s hands circling his wrists as he leaned down to press his soft lips to hers. Molly felt herself almost melt against him immediately, her heart beating so frantically she was surprised Mycroft couldn’t hear it. She sighed gently against his lips as she kissed him back, something she should have done earlier. His mouth opened slightly beneath hers and she did the same, the kisses becoming deeper with some slight tongue involvement, until the clearing of someone’s throat made them break apart. Mycroft looked over her shoulder at John, who stood there with his arms folded.</p><p> </p><p>“Not to be the party pooper here, but you’ve got an audience,” he said, indicating the rest of the street with a tilt of his head. Molly looked round to see a couple of elderly women watching and shaking their heads at their public display of affection before Molly started giggling. What shocked John the most was the sincere, full on smile on Mycroft’s face, which seemed to make him look younger. Mycroft kissed Molly once more. </p><p> </p><p>“Come home with me and we can have dinner,” he said. She dropped her hands from his wrists before she nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me just get my bag,” she said before she turned back to Mary and John, Mary already holding Molly’s coat and bag in her hand, looking fit to burst. </p><p> </p><p>“Sherlock’s going to flip his lid when he finds out about this,” she said. Molly just smiled. </p><p> </p><p>“Let him,” she said, letting Mary help her get her coat on. “Thank you both for listening to me but I think it’s all resolved now.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll say,” Mary said. “Go on, Molls. Let him spoil you rotten. You deserve it. We’ll have another drink soon, just us girls.” She winked and kissed Molly’s cheek. Molly smiled and reached over to squeeze John’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t tell Sherlock. Let me have some peace before he finds out,” she said and John smiled and nodded. “Thank you.” She bid them goodbye and she all but ran up the path to where Mycroft was waiting, opening the car door for her to let her in, giving her a quick kiss before she slid in, Mycroft closing the door behind her. He nodded to John and Mary before walking round the car and getting in the other side, the car driving away. John shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought I’d seen it all. Obviously I was wrong,” he said. </p><p> </p><p>“I think he’ll make her happy. Who knows, the next wedding might be theirs,” she said, just as Rosie began to cry upstairs. </p><p> </p><p>Mary was glad to report that, three and a half years later, Molly and Mycroft’s wedding was the next one.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt: Molly and Mycroft with their child/children on Christmas morning.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sound of hushed voices and footsteps that were louder than they should have been woke Molly from her sleep. She turned her head a little, catching a glimpse of the clock through one eye, reading four-forty-am. The arm that was wrapped around her middle tightened a little and the body pressed up against her back shifted and moulded against her a little more, face buried in her neck, sighing gently against her skin. Molly was so comfortable and warm in her husband’s arms, she pulled the duvet tighter round them. She settled down to sleep again when the whispering voices came again, doors closing louder than was obviously meant. There was movement against her back again, a kiss pressed into the skin behind her ear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think our peace is about to be shattered,” Mycroft said against her skin. Molly hummed in agreement. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so. But until then …” she said, turning over onto her back in his arms. “Maybe you could kiss me, Mr Holmes?” Mycroft lifted his head, propping himself up on his elbow before he leaned over and caught his wife’s lips with his own, her hand running through his already messed up hair. She moaned softly against his lips before he pulled back, running his fingers down her cheek. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Merry Christmas, wife,” he whispered, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Merry Christmas, Mycroft,” Molly said softly, kissing him gently before there was a soft knock on the door of their bedroom, the handle rattling before the door opened slowly and two little faces appeared around it, suddenly exclaiming ‘mama, papa … has Santa been?” Mycroft smiled, lying back against the pillow. Molly beckoned the children into the room, the twins running to join their parents in the big bed. Molly was so happy with Mycroft and their children, she couldn’t believe just how happy. Her twins, Sophia and Clara, climbed up on the bed beside their parents. Molly and Mycroft parted, letting the two girls get in and lie between them, cuddling down against them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not yet, it’s still bedtime,” Molly said, covering the girls with the duvet. “Santa doesn’t come to little girls who don’t get enough sleep. Mama and Papa need to sleep too.” She looked over them at her husband who was looking down at their children with what could only be described as adoration in his eyes. Mycroft had been a little more surprised than Molly had been at their relationship, originally thinking he wasn’t good enough for her. But Molly thought otherwise. Their children made them the happiest they had ever been. They were two beautiful four year old girls, long brown hair with Mycroft’s icy blue eyes. They looked more like Molly but they definitely wrapped their father around their little fingers. Both girls snuggled into their parents, Mycroft reaching over to squeeze Molly’s hand as they all fell asleep together for a while longer, before a kiss to her cheek woke her again. The clock this time said seven-ten-am, and Sophia and Clara were still snoozing. Molly looked up to see Mycroft standing over her, her robe in his hand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come with me,” he said. She extracted herself from Clara’s grip, sliding out of bed, grabbing a scrunchie from the bedside table to throw her hair up into a messy ponytail. Mycroft already had his robe on, holding hers up to let her slide her arms in before he took her hand and led her from the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mycroft, what’s going on?” she asked, but he said nothing, just led her downstairs to the kitchen, where a steaming hot cup of tea sat waiting for her, as well as the french doors being open, showing their large garden covered in untouched snow, large snowflakes still falling. The sky was still dark, tinged with pinks and oranges ever so slightly. Mycroft stood behind Molly, who cradled her mug in her hands, as she watched the snow with wonder. It was all so beautiful and magical. Mycroft kissed the side of her head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just wanted a moment alone with you … before the flurries of wrapping paper and excited squealing start,” he said and Molly smiled, turning in his arms. She put her mug down on the countertop again and she took hold of the front of Mycroft’s dressing gown, smoothing her hands down it, looking up at her husband. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sentimental, are we?” she asked and Mycroft smiled softly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just realising how much you and those two beautiful little girls have made me very happy, my dear,” he said, taking her face in his large hands. “I love you all very much.” Molly went on her tiptoes to kiss him, Mycroft leaning down to meet her as she did so, a fierce passionate kiss as the snow fell outside. The sound of footsteps upstairs had them breaking apart, Mycroft pressing a kiss to her forehead. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too, Mycroft,” she said. “Go get them. I’ll bring your tea to the living room.” He kissed her once more before he left the room, heading upstairs to get the little terrors. Molly picked up her mug again and turned to look at the snow out the doors again. Toby suddenly rubbed up against her leg, pawing gingerly at the snow outside before he decided it wasn’t for him and he dashed away inside. Molly shook her head in amusement. She turned away from the snow and picked up Mycroft’s tea, taking it through to the living room with her. She put them down on the table before footsteps on the stairs caught her attention. She turned and her heartbeat quickened at the adorable sight of Mycroft carrying a still half sleeping Sophia against his shoulder, holding Clara’s hand, who was rubbing her eye furiously with her free hand, as he helped her down the stairs. Molly went back into the hallway to Clara and lifted her into her arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you awake, sleepyheads?” Molly asked, kissing Clara’s temple gently while reaching over to push the hair back from Sophia’s face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did Santa come, mama? We went back to sleep … we were good,” Sophia said. Molly smiled at Mycroft who put Sophia down on her feet, Molly doing the same with Clara. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were very good, darling. Go check the tree. Papa and I haven’t checked yet,” she said. “Go on.” The twins took each others hand and they ran into the living room, stumbling a little with tiredness before they began screaming ‘mama, papa! Santa left us presents …” Molly smiled, Mycroft’s arm going round her shoulder to lead her to the living room. Mycroft had set up all the presents under their massive Christmas tree the night before, when Molly had gone to put the girls to bed, before he and Molly had sat enjoying ‘Santa’s’ cookies and milk while watching The Grinch and snogging each other on the sofa like a couple of horny teenagers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, ladies. There’s no rushing. Be gentle,” Mycroft scolded gently as the twins began to pick things up and start shaking them. Molly smiled as she watched them, sitting on the sofa and picking up the mugs of tea, handing Mycroft’s to him before he went to sit on the floor beside them to distribute the gifts to them. Molly watched as the girls got so excited over their presents, opening one after the other, showing each other and getting excited. They had definitely been spoiled this year and Molly knew when they went to Mycroft’s parents later in the day, they’d be spoiled all over again. Sherlock and John would be there with Rosie too. Molly watched Sophia move to sit in her father’s lap as Mycroft continued to hand them their gifts. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mama …” Clara said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, honey?” Molly asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Santa brought us lots of presents. Does that mean we were good?” she asked, clutching a new teddy bear she had just unwrapped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh sweetie, you were both such good girls this year,” Molly said, kneeling on the carpet next to Clara and leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Such good girls.” She looked at Mycroft, who was watching her with a small smile on his face, his arm wrapped round Sophia. Soon, all the presents with the girls names on them were gone, leaving the living room covered in new clothes, shoes, toys, stuffed animals, the works. Definitely spoiled. Molly went to the kitchen to sort them some breakfast while Mycroft gathered up all the wrapping paper and got rid of it. Once the girls were situated at the dining room table with their breakfast, iPad showing some cartoons for them, could Mycroft and Molly finally relax again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Mrs Holmes, that was definitely more successful than last year,” he said, letting Molly lie against him on the sofa, pressing a kiss to her head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have some gifts for you,” she said, smiling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm, funnily enough I have some for you too,” he said. They both got up and went in search of their gift bags. Molly sat down on the couch, legs crossed under her as she put the bag next to the sofa, waiting on Mycroft to come back. She listened to the noise of the cartoons coming from the dining room before Mycroft returned with a bag, sitting down again and putting it down. “Do you want to go first?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How about I give you one then me then you until we’re done?” she suggested and Mycroft nodded. They began to exchange gifts, a mixture of expensive gifts and practical gifts, two gifts each from the girls, obviously picked by the other parent. Mycroft smiled at each of his gifts, (cufflinks and tie pin, books, a new cashmere jumper, a new briefcase with his initials, a new silk robe among other things) as did Molly (a Swarovski necklace, pyjamas, candles, a new ring, tickets to the opera, and few more items) until there was just one present left for Mycroft in Molly’s bag. She swallowed before she reached into the bag. She took out the little box, tied with a silver ribbon before she handed it to him with a smile. He took it gently and he undid the ribbon slowly. Molly watched, her heart beating hard in her chest, almost ready to burst free. He dropped the ribbon to the floor and he slowly lifted the lid of the box to look inside, his eyes widening slightly as he took in a deep breath, exhaling again shakily. His eyes met Molly’s, unshed tears there. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Molly …” he said and she smiled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you happy?” she asked and Mycroft looked back into the box, putting it down on his lap and picking up what was inside. He held the positive pregnancy test between his thumb and forefinger, his hand shaking slightly before he picked up the scan picture from the box. He looked at it with all the love and adoration he looked at his daughters with and Molly knew he was happy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How could I not be?” he asked, putting everything down on the coffee table before he stood, pulling Molly to her feet too. He pressed a kiss to her lips as she took his hand and slipped it under her shirt, his hand caressing her belly, kicking himself he didn’t figure it out sooner, but part of him was glad he didn’t. The surprise made him blissfully happy. Molly kissed him back, melting against him, pulling him close before they parted and pressed their foreheads together gently. “I love you … so much, Molly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too, Mycroft,” she said, kissing him again before two sets of footsteps could be heard running towards them and the twins were clinging to their legs, begging to be hugged too. They each picked up one of their daughters, before Mycroft drew them all close, kissing each one on the forehead in turn. Molly looked at their girls before she spoke again. “How would you two feel about being big sisters?” Both girls smiled and nodded frantically. Mycroft smiled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, because mummy is having a baby,” he said, proudly and both girls look fit to burst with excitement before they both began hugging Molly, pressing kisses to her cheeks, giggling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now?” Clara asked. Molly laughed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not now, but soon,” she said. “Come on. We’re going to Grandma and Grandpa’s today. Uncle Sherlock and Uncle John will be there with Rosie too. Let’s get the pair of you in the bath.” The twins were put back down, both running upstairs to the bathroom. Molly slipped her hand into Mycroft’s, squeezing gently. “I’ll go bath them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make us some breakfast,” Mycroft said, leaning down to kiss her. “You know Mummy will fuss over you all day now when you tell her.” Molly chuckled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh I am very prepared. She was very good to me when I was pregnant with the twins,” she said. “She will be very pleased.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed …” Mycroft said, kissing her again. “You have given me a beautiful family, Mrs Holmes, and now we are adding to it again. I could not ask for anything better.” Molly smiled, reaching up to run a thumb over his cheek. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad I could help,” she said, pressing one more kiss to his lips. “Get the kettle back on, husband. I’m going to go run the terrors a bath.” Mycroft nodded and let go of her hand as she left the living room. Mycroft gathered up their empty tea mugs and took them back to the kitchen to make another cuppa, when his phone alerted him to a text message. He picked it up from counter and moved to stand at the open doors again, the snowfall a little heavier now, leaning against the doorframe. He unlocked his phone, three unopened messages sitting there. One from Gregory Lestrade.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Merry Christmas mate. Hope you and the family have a good one. GL</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One from Anthea.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Merry Christmas, Mycroft. Give Molly and the girls my love. And congratulations ;) A</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft rolled his eyes. Obviously his assistant knew. Molly and Anthea were good friends and Molly always needed another woman to talk to when she couldn’t go to Mycroft. He smiled and opened the last message, which shocked him as they didn’t really do Christmas messages. Sherlock.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Merry Christmas, brother mine. I would have suggested buying a television for Christmas, something to keep you both entertained that doesn’t involve a bed. I thought she might have been pregnant when she avoided wine at the 221b party. Congratulations. Enjoy Mummy’s fussing. See you there. SH.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft smiled. He really did have the most unusual, yet the very best and most loving, family.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt: Molly is kidnapped and Mycroft blames himself.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Molly couldn’t stop the tears that ran down her aching face. The cut on her forehead hurt like hell and her wrists were burning with pain where the rope dug into them, binding them together. She was scared but she tried to stop crying, not to let the Russians, who had kidnapped her from outside Bart’s when she had finished her shift, see how much this was affecting her. They spoke Russian so she didn’t know what they were saying, apart from two of them who were conversing in English nearby. They were after someone, someone important, but she had no clue why. She looked around at the warehouse she was being kept at, looking for an exit. She knew, though, she’d die before she got out of there if she tried to escape. Footsteps approached her from behind, her heart hammering in her chest in panic, until someone walked round her and squatted down in front of her. The man in front of her could have not been any older than thirty but his eyes told her he’d seen some things. He had a large scar down his cheek and one of his eyes were clouded, a possibility that it was fully blind. He held a gun in his hand, resting it on his knee.</p><p> </p><p>“Please … let me go … I haven’t done anything,” she begged. “You have to have the wrong person.” The man in front of her held out his hand to one of his comrades and a file was handed to him. He flipped it open before he cleared his throat.</p><p> </p><p>“Dr Margaret Elizabeth Hooper. Also known as Molly. Pathologist as St Bartholomew’s Hospital. Thirty-five, five-foot-two, father deceased, mother still living, older brother and two nephews …” he said, Molly’s stomach churning uncomfortably as he rhymed off all the things written about her. “But, Dr Hooper, there is one reason and one reason alone we have you here.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know why I’m here …” she said, hot, fresh tears falling down her face just as the Russian struck her again, her already sore cheek on fire. </p><p> </p><p>“Shut up …” he said. Molly took a deep breath against the pain. “We have, shall we say, a mutual acquaintance. Someone I want dead.” Molly was confused. Who could she possibly know that he would want dead? “Tell me, Dr Hooper. Are government officials always your type or do you have a soft spot for this one in particular?” Molly’s eyes widened slightly just as the door to the warehouse flew open and one of the Russian’s gang ran in, slamming it closed.</p><p> </p><p>“Sergei … we have to get out … we have …” the other called just as the door flew open again and Molly cried out as the sounds of firing bullets met her ears. She screwed her eyes closed, keeping her head down, curled up against the wall where she was tied to some piping. She was going to die, she knew it. “He’s here … get him.” Voices called from all over, as well as the sounds of bullets meeting flesh and bodies hitting the ground. Molly would have give anything to be able to cover her ears. But before she knew it, the shooting had stopped. Molly opened her eyes and only saw dust and dead bodies. Her eyes hurt and her ears were ringing. Her heart felt like it was in her throat, trying to breathe to calm down. Then she heard his voice. She turned her head towards where it was coming from, the dust clearing to see the Russian who had struck her kneeling with his hands behind his head in front of Mycroft Holmes, who was as immaculate as ever in a navy suit with a paisley tie. He looked furious but he spoke calmly, in fluent Russian. This definitely wasn’t the time for Molly to be overly aroused by the fact he was probably threatening her kidnapper in his own language. The Russian spoke back to Mycroft, spitting at his feet, before Mycroft struck him across the face, splitting his lip. Suddenly the Russian was grabbed by one of Mycroft’s team and dragged from the room before Mycroft looked over to Molly. His body language changed entirely, the pain evident in his face as he gazed upon her. He moved over to her quickly and knelt down in front of her.</p><p> </p><p>“Molly. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he said, his long fingers reaching out to touch her cheek but didn’t quite connect. He pulled back for a moment to reach to untie her. Molly felt more tears in her eyes as he took the ropes from her wrists, running his fingers over the broken skin there. He discarded the rope and the moment her hands were free, she wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>“I hoped you’d come for me,” she said softy, sniffling. Mycroft wrapped his arm around her back, holding her close, burying his face in her shoulder in return. </p><p> </p><p>“Always. I’m sorry, Molly. Please forgive me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mr Holmes, we need to leave,” one of Mycroft’s team said from behind them. Mycroft lifted his head to acknowledge the man, nodding once before he slid his arms under Molly’s knees and lifting her into his arms, carrying her towards his waiting car.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s get you home,” he said. Molly nodded against his neck.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes please,” she said, her voice barely audible. The drive home was silent, Anthea watching Molly in silent sorrow, not believing that her friend had been kidnapped beneath their very noses. Mycroft had been distraught when he had saw the footage of Molly’s being snatched and into the back of a familiar black van by a very familiar Russian and Anthea had to calm him down. Molly was holding Mycroft’s hand so tightly that her knuckles were almost white and Mycroft’s fingers were bright red. But he didn’t say anything. He just held her as the silent tears still fell down her face. They got her back to Mycroft’s estate and inside the house, a stiff drink in her hand before she broke down again. Mycroft called for his housekeeper to run Molly a bath and Anthea went to fetch the first aid kit. </p><p> </p><p>“Molly?” Mycroft said gently from next to her on the couch, making her turn to face him. She was a sorry sight and he was so angry with himself for not shooting the Russian between the eyes for hurting the woman he loved. The hand that held her drink was shaking and she wiped her tears away with the other one before she reached for Mycroft’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t say you’re sorry again. It wasn’t your fault,” she said, linking her fingers with his. </p><p> </p><p>“I should have been there. You should always be safe with me. I broke my promise to keep you safe,” Mycroft said and Molly could see how much he was beating himself up inside. The guilt would eat away at him. Molly took another drink, the liquid burning her throat before she put it down on the table, taking both of Mycroft’s hands. </p><p> </p><p>“You do keep me safe, Mycroft. I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you, I promise. This wasn’t your fault,” she said. Mycroft wasn’t completely convinced but he nodded anyway. He could tell she was in some pain just from the way she sat on the couch next to him, her cheek had started to bruise and the cut on her head looked painful. Anthea appeared in the doorway again, first aid kit in hand. “Go with Anthea, there’s a bath run for you. I’ll be up in a minute.” Molly stood, Mycroft following, pulling her against him for a cuddle, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before she went with Anthea. He locked eyes with his assistant for a moment, knowing Anthea would look after Molly. She nodded once and she followed Molly up to the bathroom. Mycroft pulled at his tie which suddenly felt too tight, loosening it and undoing a couple of buttons before he grabbed his phone, making a few phone calls he needed to make. He went into the kitchen, grabbing a tumbler and poured himself a scotch, taking more than gulp, unable to stop his own hands from shaking. If he’d waited any longer, Molly might have been dead and that was a feeling he couldn’t shake.  He slid off his jacket before he sat down, elbows on the dining table and let his head fall into his hands. How could he have let this happen to the woman he loved?</p><p> </p><p>Upstairs, Molly stood in front of Anthea, wearing Mycroft’s robe, as Anthea carefully treated her cuts. Molly tried her hardest not to wince as the alcohol in the wipes stung. Anthea apologised, sweeping Molly’s hair back from her face. Molly grabbed at it, pulling it back into a ponytail. “It’s not Mycroft’s fault,” Molly said.</p><p> </p><p>“I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“He thinks it is.” Anthea sighed.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” she replied. She watched Molly for a moment before she took her hand. </p><p> </p><p>“They hurt me a lot. I know it doesn’t look a lot, but they passed me around like it was a game for them. They didn’t care. Not one of them. One of them …” Molly choked on her words, swallowing to try and clear her throat. “One of them groped me … told me he’d do things to me that would make the filthiest of whores blush.” Molly’s cheeks darkened, her eyes avoiding Anthea’s but her grip on her hands tightened. “I hit him and pushed him off and he didn’t like it so he hit me in the head with the butt of his gun before he sat at my side with the gun to my head. I prayed someone would come for me. In my heart, I knew Mycroft would.” Anthea continued to hold her hand, running a thumb over Molly’s bruised knuckles, no doubt from where she hit one of her captors.</p><p> </p><p>“He won’t appreciate me telling you this, but he was murderous when he got the footage from outside Bart’s. When he came to get you, I thought he was finally going to kill someone with his bare hands.” Molly’s eyes widened a little, feeling tears come to her eyes. “Sergei Ivanov has been under Mycroft and the government’s watchful eye for too long. He has a vendetta against Mycroft, Sherlock too, but Mycroft specifically. Ivanov took you to hurt him. He knew he’d come. He just didn’t realise he’d come with reinforcements.” </p><p> </p><p>“Why does he have a vendetta?” Molly asked. Anthea stilled her hand for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s … not information I can divulge. Mycroft is the only one who could answer that, though he may choose not to. It’s personal,” she said. She finished cleaning the cut on Molly’s forehead. “Come on, into the bath.” Molly let Anthea help her out of the robe and into the bath, the hot water soothing her aches and pains a little. Anthea hung Mycroft’s robe up next to the bath, letting Molly lie back in the bubbles. “Do you want me to stay with you?” Molly looked up, Anthea noting the unshed tears in her eyes again, before she shook her head. </p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m fine. Thank you, Anthea,” she said. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll let you have some time alone before I send him up. He’ll be pacing like a caged lion down there,” Anthea said with a sad smile before she left the bathroom, closing the door behind her. It wasn’t until Anthea’s footsteps had disappeared that Molly sat up again, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, and allowed herself to cry again, her body wracked with heaving sobs, her forehead pressed against her knees which poked out the surface of the water. She was so scared, so adamant she was going to die that the relief she felt at that moment, how happy she was that Mycroft came for her, all just rushed to the surface. God, how she loved him. She let herself cry until she was done before she relaxed back into the water again. She scrubbed herself until she was red raw, bruising forming on her ribs and shoulders where she had been grabbed and hauled around the place in that warehouse. She shivered at the thought before she lay back in the bath for a while, just letting the water keep her warm until she was ready to get out. She climbed out and grabbed a warm towel from the radiator, wrapping it around herself before grabbing Mycroft’s robe and holding it to her face, just taking in his scent and how much it comforted her. She put it on over her towel and she left the bathroom, only to hear raised voiced from downstairs.</p><p> </p><p>“Get up there and make sure the woman you love is alright! She’s been through an ordeal, you need to <em> support </em> her!” Anthea said, louder than Molly had heard her speak before. She could imagine Mycroft sitting looking shocked, like a child would when being scolded by a parent.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not so simple, Anthea. This is my fault, I wasn’t on my guard enough. I should have seen this coming. It had been too long since he had made any attempt to get my attention,” Mycroft said.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not your fault.  Jesus Christ, Mycroft. She doesn’t blame <em> you </em> . She loves you, for God’s sake,” she said. “You waited long enough to be with her. You let her want Sherlock, thinking he was better than you.” Molly felt her cheeks redded at Anthea’s words. “Now she’s yours, she wants you, she loves you, she feels safe with you. Get off your <em> arse </em>, Mycroft Holmes, and go be with her. Hold her. Tell her you love her, tell her its going to be okay.” There was a pause. “Please? She needs you.” Molly swallowed hard, listening to them. Anthea was right. She needed Mycroft. She wanted him to hold her and love her and tell her it was okay. The scraping of chair legs against the floor made Molly move down the hall to their bedroom, knowing he’d be up soon. She dried off quickly, changing into some pyjamas. There was a glass of water and two paracetamol sitting on the bedside table, obviously Anthea’s doing, which Molly took quickly, not realising how thirsty she was. She moved onto the bed, lying down. Her face still hurt a lot when she laid it against the pillow. She felt more tears come to her eyes as she lay there, just thinking. The door to the bedroom opened slowly and Molly watched Mycroft walk in slowly, his eyes meeting hers. He shut the door behind him and began to take off his suit. Molly watched him move around the room, ridding himself of the waistcoat, tie before untucking and unbuttoning his shirt before she spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“Mycroft …” He turned his head in her direction, eyes meeting again.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you …” she said softly and Mycroft’s entire body seemed to relax at her words. He moved closer to her and sat on the bed, reaching to take her hand. </p><p> </p><p>“I love you,” he said back. “I will say this one more time, I’m so sorry, Molly. You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in my mess. It won’t happen again.” She kissed his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“Who was he?” she asked. “Why does he hate you?” Mycroft sighed before he swallowed hard.</p><p> </p><p>“He killed someone … someone very dear to me a long time ago. Then the favour was returned, but I did not kill anyone with my own hands. Moriarty got involved, before we really knew who Moriarty was, sent him after Sherlock and in a fight between them, my agents came to Sherlock’s aid and the woman Ivanov loved was killed in the fight. He blames me, and I suppose its right that he does,” Mycroft said. “But we’ve been after him for a long time. He’ll be put away for a while now.” Molly squeezed his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t blame yourself …”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s hard not to, especially when I have a younger brother I simply want to see live a long and happy life, no matter how odd his life is,” he said. Molly smiled.</p><p> </p><p>“I knew you cared about him …”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I do, he is my family after all,” he said. He swallowed hard again before he looked down at her, Molly lying against his pillow. “You are my family … I just want you to be safe.” Molly could see the tears in Mycroft’s eyes and she sat up slowly, edging herself towards him and wrapping her arms around him, guiding his head down onto her shoulder, his arm wrapping round her back. “I thought I was going to lose you.” Molly held him for a moment before she felt his shoulders shaking as the emotion bubbled to the surface and he began to cry into her shoulder. She clung to him that little bit tighter, shushing him as she stroked his hair. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m here, Mycroft. I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered as she kissed his cheek. He lifted his head from her shoulder again and she ran her thumbs over his cheeks to wipe away his tears. “Don’t cry, love. You’ll set me off again. You’re meant to be the strong one.” Mycroft smiled gently. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Come on, clothes off and get into bed. I’d like you to hold me.” Mycroft nodded, pressing one more kiss to her lips before standing and undressing completely as Molly slipped under the duvet. Mycroft pulled on his pyjamas and turned off the lamp before he slid under the duvet with her, enveloping her in his arms immediately. Their bodies moulded to each others easily, knowing how to sleep together comfortably. Molly slipped a leg between his, one hand resting just beneath the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. He sighed contentedly, He ran his fingers ever so lightly over the bruise on her cheek as she cushioned her head on his arm, buried tightly against his front. Before Molly, Mycroft wasn’t someone who particularly enjoyed affection or touch, but since she came into his life, he felt he couldn’t get enough of her. She still trembled lighty in his arms and he ran a hand up and down her back to try and comfort her.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here, love. I’m here,” he whispered until she fell asleep in his arms. </p><p> </p><p>Mycroft had hardly slept. It was six-am when he sat in front of the fire in the living room as the rain hammered against the window. He took a drink of his tea, savouring the warmth. Molly had had nightmares during the night, unable to stop herself from breaking down in Mycroft’s arms again. He couldn’t begin to think about what else could have been done to her while she had been in the Russian’s grasp. He didn’t want to think about it. He sighed deeply and rubbed his temple with his fingertips. He jumped slightly when two hands touched his shoulders gently, running down his chest as Molly pressed her cheek against his.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry you haven’t been able to sleep because of me,” she said, softly. Mycroft brought his hand up to hold hers against his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“You have nothing to apologise for, my dear,” he said. “You’ve been through a traumatic experience. It’s only natural that there would be repercussions of that.” She pressed a kiss to his head before he pulled her round in front of him and pulling her down to sit on his lap. The bruises on her face were darker than the night before and she looked knackered. Mycroft put down his tea and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He thought about the next words to come out his mouth for a while before they actually came out. “Ivanov … he … he didn’t do anything to you … against your will, did he?” Molly looked pained for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing terrible … but he passed me around his men and they had a good grope at me and roughed me up. I refused to do anything with one man and he hit me in the head with his gun,” she said, lifting her hand to the covered up cut on her head before she touched Mycroft’s cheek, cupping it gently. “I’m so lucky I have you, Mycroft Holmes. You saved me.” She leaned in and she took his lips in hers, kissing him deeply. He let himself melt against her, pulling her closer, her fingers threading through the hair on the back of his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Marry me?” was the next words to come from his mouth when they parted for air and Molly stared at him for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Mycroft …” she started, but he stopped her.</p><p> </p><p>“I know what you’re thinking. That I’m only asking you because of what happened but you’d be wrong. I’ve been waiting to ask you for a while now … and I thought, here with you now, was as good a time as any,” he explained, taking her hand in his. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re serious?” Molly asked in disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>“Completely,” he replied. He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, running his thumb over her cheek. “So, what do you think?” Molly smiled the best she could without hurting her face any more than it already did.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Mycroft, I’ll marry you. Of course I’ll marry you,” she said, cupping his cheek gently. “Just as long as you come back up to bed for a while. We both need some sleep,” she said, smiling brightly as she leaned in to kiss him again.</p><p> </p><p>“Agreed.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Summary: Mycroft has body confidence issues. Molly has other ideas.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re not attracted to me, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft Holmes stopped with the spoon halfway towards his mouth before he put it down in the bowl again, picking up the napkin from his lap and lying it on the table. They were dining together at Mycroft’s home, and he had noticed that Molly was unusually quiet and hadn’t really touched any of her food. But part of him knew this conversation was coming. He was aware he hadn’t been particularly forward in their relationship, having been together for the last six months. He enjoyed her company, she was beautiful, he <em> was </em> very much attracted to her. He sighed gently and sat back in his chair, looking at her over the table.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not that, Molly. Not at all …” he began, not knowing what to say at this moment. </p><p>“You don’t have to spare my feelings, you know. I’ve had enough bad relationships to know that someone’s not attracted to me. I mean I’m nothing special to look at but you haven’t made any sort of move to even show you want to touch me,” she said. “We’ve held hands, sure, kissed a bit, sure. But other than that, nothing. Sorry if thats easier for you, Mycroft, but it’s not for me,” she said, feeling tears well up in her eyes. She took a quick gulp of her wine before putting it down harder than she intended, chipping the bottom of the glass. Mycroft closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard before he looked back at Molly.</p><p> </p><p>“Molly, look at me,” he said, but she was rather stubborn. She would not look at him at first. He reached for her, slipping his hand under hers to take it in his own. She looked down at their hands before she lifted her eyes to his. “I think the phrase I’m looking to use, although rather cliche, would be ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’” Molly looked adorably confused.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Molly, you are the most beautiful woman I have laid eyes on and the fact you are with me pleases me to no end. I am, and I say this with absolute sincerity, so attracted to you it pains me,” he said and Molly felt her heart beat faster in her chest. She felt her cheeks redden as she went to ask her next question.</p><p> </p><p>“Why … why haven’t we, erm … I mean, why won’t you … ?” she said before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Help me out here, Mycroft.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why haven’t we had sex yet?” he finished for her and if her face could have gotten darker, it would have, but she nodded. “This is where ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ comes into it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mycroft, I don’t understand …” Mycroft squeezed her hand in his and he took a deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>“I have always been rather … concerned about my image, mostly my weight, since I was a child and I didn’t want you to see me and decide you want someone else. That would break my heart,” he said softly and Molly felt her own heart shatter for the man in front of her. He didn’t want her to see him naked. He was afraid she would reject him. </p><p> </p><p>“Have you never …?” she began when Mycroft cut her off.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not some blushing virgin, if that’s what you are asking,” he said. “Someone … before you. They left me for that exact reason, left me for someone in a similar position to me in their career, who made less money than me, yet had a better body image. It’s fascinating how low some women will stoop when money, power, a more defined physique and an extra half inch on the penis, is concerned.” Molly looked down at their hands again before she stood up, moving over to him before lifting a leg over his lap and straddling him, her skirt riding up, taking his face in her hands as she sat flush against him, pressed together from groin to chest. Mycroft swallowed hard before he slid his hands round her backside, their eyes roaming each others faces.</p><p> </p><p>“She was an absolute arse to make you feel like that, Mycroft. You’re amazing, you look amazing. I’m so attracted to everything about you,” she said, knowing that Mycroft would still be doubting her words. She leaned in to press a kiss to his lips, Mycroft sighing contentedly against her before he kissed her back. In truth, he’d longed to touch her, to kiss her until they were both breathless, to push her up against a wall and hike her skirt up around her waist and have his way with her until they were a sated, boneless mess. One comment from a former lover had him holding back all his desires, but the woman in his lap was making his resolve crumble. Her tongue was suddenly in his mouth and he lost all coherent thought as he kissed her back just as hard. Her arms went round his neck,one hand grasping the hair at the back of his head gently before she pulled back from the kiss, needing air. Their eyes met again and she ran her fingers through his hair. “I want you … I want to see you. Will you let me?” Mycroft swallowed hard again, trying not to drop eye contact with her. He brought his hand up, tipping her chin up with a finger before he leaned in and began to kiss her neck, down into the open neck of her blouse. “Is that a yes?” She let her head fall back to give him as much access as he wanted, startling slightly as his other hand touched bare skin as it slid under her skirt. She moved her hips closer to him, bringing her eyes back to his as she felt him semi hard beneath her. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s most definitely a yes, Dr Hooper,” he said as the tips of his long fingers slid along the lace of her knickers, Molly trembling slightly at what was, finally, going to happen. “You have no idea how much I’ve held back from you. I knew if I kissed you more than I did, I’d want more yet my insecurities came back.” Molly kissed him gently again.</p><p> </p><p>“I have insecurities too. You could have anyone, yet you have me,” she said.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want just anyone, though. I <em> want </em> you,” he said. That was all Molly needed to hear before she was kissing him hard again, her fingers at top buttons on his shirt, undoing them quickly as Mycroft’s hands were back on her arse, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of her buttocks as he pulled her against his growing erection. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Mycroft </em> …” she moaned softly against his mouth, rocking her hips against his. He wanted nothing more than to sweep all the dishes from the table to the floor and throw her down on it and give her what she wanted but he was a gentleman. She deserved a soft surface, all the love and pleasure showered all over her. But the way she was rocking against his lap as she kissed him, he wasn’t sure he’d make it to a bed if they didn't move soon. He flinched away from the kiss slightly when he realised his waistcoat and shirt were completely open and Molly’s hands were running down his bare skin. She pulled back again and looked at him with sad eyes. “Don’t be scared, Mycroft. You’re beautiful.” Mycroft felt his cheeks redden slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“If we’re going to do this, we need to go somewhere my back is going to be able to tolerate. This chair is not doing it for me,” he said and Molly chuckled before she climbed off him, letting him stand to his full height. Molly bit her lip as she tipped her head back to look up at him, loving their height difference. It made her feel safe. Mycroft reached out and took her hand, pulling her along with him, up the stairs to his bedroom. The moment the door was closed behind them she was on him again, Mycroft slipping his hands beneath her thighs and lifting her, her arms around his neck as she kissed him soundly. He toed off his shoes before he moved to the bed, putting her down on her back. He felt braver than he ever had and he pulled back from the kiss, standing up again and watching her intently as he let the waistcoat and shirt slide off his shoulders, leaving him bare chested and trembling slightly at her gaze. He was no Adonis, he knew that. He was softer round the middle, though he tried to work out a couple of times a week, which did make him feel a little bit better about himself. He watch Molly as she sat up, shimmying forward to the edge of the bed, pulling him in by the waistband of his suit trousers before she pressed a kiss to the middle of his chest before she began peppering them all over him. </p><p> </p><p>“Please don’t hide from me again …” Molly said. “You’re perfect to me.” Mycroft felt himself blush before he leaned down to kiss her again before pushing her back on the bed again. She was wearing far too many clothes and he knew he had to rectify that. Her shoes were already gone, so Mycroft slid his hands up her bare legs before they disappeared under her skirt, taking hold of the lacy underwear she wore, Molly breathing heavily as she lifted her hips to let Mycroft slide her knickers off. She watched as he bundled the lace up in his hands and slid the knickers into his pocket, smirking seductively at her, coaxing her further up the bed before he joined her. She slipped off her blouse, throwing it across the room, the matching bra to her knickers complimented her skin tone beautifully. He kissed her lips once more before he made his way down her body, leaving hot, wet kisses as he got further down until he came to her skirt which, without second thought, he pushed up around her waist, baring her to him. Molly turned her face into the pillow, blushing furiously, as Mycroft’s fingers gripped her thighs, coaxing her legs open that little bit more. Molly closed her eyes for a moment, reaching for Mycroft’s hair just as his mouth came forward to exactly where she wanted it, feeling him press wet kisses and licks to her most intimate area. </p><p> </p><p>“Ohmygod … <em> Mycroft </em>,” she gasped as she settled one foot against his back, pushing her hips up against his face as one hand gripped the pillow and the other was buried in his hair. His tongue was ruthless between her legs and she found it hard to breath, his name falling from her lips every now and them before she lifted her head to get a good look at him, his eyes meeting hers. God, she’d never seen something so hot in all her life. He feasted on her, like she was his last meal, her whole body trembling. She cried out when his finger suddenly took over for his tongue, massaging her clit beneath the pad of his thumb as his index finger slid inside her. She pulled his hair a little harder than she meant to, a moan coming from Mycroft’s mouth as he began to kiss and bite gently on the inside of her thighs before his tongue took over from his thumb again. The noises coming from Molly indicated she was close and Mycroft sped up his torture both with his hand and mouth until Molly’s heel pressed painfully into his back, her hand reaching for his, squeezing hard, as she arched her back and let out a sob. He tried to hold her down, her whole body trembling before he pulled back from her and let her melt back against the pillow in her post-orgasm bliss. He rose up from the bed, crawling over her, her hands cupping his cheeks and he leaned down to kiss her, still feeling her body shaking slightly against his. Mycroft pulled back first, looking down at the beautiful woman beneath him. Her cheeks and chest was flushed, a light sweat on her forehead and she was breathless.</p><p> </p><p>“You have a wicked tongue, Mr Holmes,” Molly smirked, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips again.</p><p> </p><p>“Indeed, Dr Hooper,” he said before Molly was moving beneath him, rolling him over onto his back and straddling his hips, grinding down against the tent in his suit trousers. Mycroft smirked gently. “You cannot deny that I’m attracted to you now, can you?” Molly grinned.</p><p> </p><p>“No, definitely not,” she said, hands going behind her back to undo her bra, before discarding it over the side of the bed, Mycroft swallowing hard as he looked up at her from where he lay against the pillow. “Now, I think it’s time we got those trousers off.” She shimmied down his legs a little before almost ripping the belt and button open in her haste, leaning down to press a few kisses to his chest. She heard a hitch in his breath but she kept going, pulling gently at a nipple with her teeth before she sat up again and pulled his trousers down to his knees, baring him to her eyes. “My, my, Mr Holmes. Anyone would think you were pleased to see me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m seeing more of you than I’ve ever seen so I’m definitely pleased to see you,” he said breathlessly, watching as she took him in hand and stroked him a few times. A quick reach over and rustle in the bedside table and Mycroft found a condom, Molly taking it from him and readying him for what was going to happen, before she was back over his lap and sliding down onto him. Mycroft as pretty sure he had died and gone to heaven, Molly tight round his cock, before he reached for her hips, taking hold of her in his large hands. They stared at each other for a moment, slightly wide-eyed and breathless before Molly reached for his cheek, caressing him with her thumb.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t have to be scared. There's nothing wrong with your body,” she said.</p><p> </p><p>“I see that now,” he replied before he pulled her down for a another toe curling kiss. He could definitely get used this.</p><p> </p><p>----------------</p><p> </p><p>Molly hummed along to the Smooth 80’s radio station as she put bacon in the frying pan, dancing to the music, wearing only Mycroft’s shirt, as she made breakfast, before grabbing her mug of tea and taking a drink. Mycroft was still in bed so she thought she would surprise him with some breakfast in bed. But when she heard footsteps, she was a little disappointed, but she carried on cooking.</p><p> </p><p>“I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,” she said. “Maybe then we could have round three, eh?” She turned with her mug in her hand, taking a drink, only to almost choke on her tea when she saw Sherlock standing there in the doorway, a look of almost confusion on his face, but she knew he knew what was going on. She cleared her airway before she managed to speak again. “What are you doing here?” </p><p> </p><p>“So, Mycroft finally broke his ‘no sex’ rule? Well done, Molly. You’ve pulled my brother out of the dark and dingy place he was living in his mind,” Sherlock said, moving into the kitchen, going to pick up a piece of toast from the plate before Molly slapped his hand. “I hope he satisfied you sexually.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Sherlock </em> … what sort of question is that?” she scolded, her cheeks flushing.</p><p> </p><p>“A simple one … Mycroft is a complicated man with a complicated lifestyle. I just hope you can make each other … content. I know I … I can make your life complicated sometimes, and I don’t mean to …” he said, picking up Molly’s half-drunk tea and taking a drink. Molly frowned gently.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you … apologising to me for sometimes being an arse?” she asked. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“Come now, Molly, let’s not get carried away …” he said and she found herself chuckling gently. “Your bacon is burning.” Molly turned back to the hob and quickly flipped the bacon, groaning at the slightly more chargrilled look it had which was not what she was going for at all. “Mycroft likes his bacon on the crispy side, so don’t worry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you here anyway?” she asked, trying to ignore the fact her knickers were almost on show in front of Sherlock. </p><p> </p><p>“John’s gone to his sisters for the week. I found myself without someone to annoy. Mrs Hudson said if I did anymore experiments that blew anything up she’d come after me with her shotgun, and I know she has a shotgun. Her former husband used to run a drug cartel. So I came to annoy my brother, but he’s probably still snoring upstairs,” he said. Molly nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“He is,” she said.</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose I better make myself scarce. Sorry I can’t stay for breakfast,” Sherlock said with a grin. Molly shook her head. </p><p> </p><p>“Good, none of it was for you anyway,” she said, returning his smile. “Now get out so I can get back into bed with your brother.” Sherlock wrinkled his nose.</p><p> </p><p>“Not the image I wanted, thanks Molly,” he said before he lifted his hand in a small wave as he left the room, the front door closing behind him. Molly quickly made Mycroft a cup of tea and put the french toast and bacon, along with his tea and some orange juice on a tray before she took it upstairs to him. He was still sleeping, lying on his front with his arms wrapped round his pillow, so Molly put it down on the dresser before she climbed onto the bed and over Mycroft, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. It took a few moments for him to wake but he was eventually kissing her back, freeing his hands from beneath his pillow to pull her down beside him. </p><p> </p><p>“Good morning,” he muttered when he managed to open his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Morning, love,” she said, kissing him again. “Sleep well?”</p><p> </p><p>“Very well,” he said before he took a deep sniff. “Something smells delicious, other than you, of course.” Molly laughed.</p><p> </p><p>“Charmer. I made french toast,” she said, extracting herself from him to go grab the tray and bringing it over to the bed, putting it down before she climbed under the duvet with him again, sitting against the pillows as Mycroft manoeuvred himself into a sitting position too. She handed him his tea and they ate and drank in a comfortable silence, Molly leaning against Mycroft’s side. When they finished breakfast, Molly cleared the tray from the bed and unbuttoned the shirt she was wearing, dropping it to the floor, leaving her just in her knickers again. She kissed Mycroft gently, biting his bottom lip gently. “Breakfast isn’t done yet.” She disappeared under the duvet and Mycroft melted into the pillow a little more when he felt her mouth on him, closing his eyes and letting himself enjoy the feel of her mouth, wondering why he had ever stopped himself from having this experience in the first place. But, then again, there was only one Molly Hooper in the world. </p><p> </p><p>And she was his.</p>
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